Retail therapy

Typically, I am not a Shopper. You will not usually see me strolling down King Street or Broughton Street or College Street carrying multiple elegant paper bags, contents wrapped in tissue paper; boutique coffee in hand, Chanel sunglasses hiding most of a carefully botoxed face, and chattering cheerfully with some other middle aged Patron of the Arts while we do whatever it is MAPotA do on King/Broughton/College streets.

Occasionally, however, I will stroll those streets, such Shopping Destinations that they are, and indulge in the offerings a little bit.

Today I had an appointment for a teeth checking. His office is, conveniently, on Broughton Street, and since there’s 2 hours on the parking meter and the checkup took 45 minutes, might as well take advantage, right? right. See, there’s this place on that street that carries the sort of stuff MAPotA use on a regular basis, to keep the botox in order. It’s called L’Occitaine and if you go in, the cheerful employee will grab your hand and give it a generous massage. With cream that has some sort of mind altering agent because after the massage you’re perfectly willing to drop $40 on a bottle of something. Now, I don’t have any botox and am not a Patron of the Arts unless it comes from a friend, who happens to be an artist but she would be my friend even if she weren’t. However, it IS her fault that L’Occitaine has become a part of the standard visit to that street in Savannah, along with Coffee Fox, Go Fish, and Paris Market. I haven’t succumbed to the desire/cultural need for multiple tissue filled bags, nor Chanel sunglasses or whatever other accoutrements necessary to the demographic.

BUT…the simple pleasure of getting a few things I would have gotten anyway, in an environment more pleasant that the local Bi-Lo, is kind of nice, indulgent in a gentle and inoffensive way. There is a market in Savannah that carries a ridiculously broad selection of produce and meats, at a very acceptable price, and I do love to shop for food. It’s more fun that looking for clothes, shoes, cars, jewelry, anything else one could name that some people consider “fun”. Food…everyone needs it, right? Might as well make it interesting and delicious and the whole experience a pleasure rather than a chore.

I spent an hour at this place (called Lucky’s Market, it’s at the intersection of DeRenne and Abercorn, if you’re interested), perusing the produce area (Red grapefruit, 5/$1! Little bitty beets, $2/pound!) and the bulk section (Jamaican coffee,, Kenyan coffee, And others, $9/pound! Corn nuts, $1.80/pound! #4 do love him some corn nuts!), and loaded up on some tasty tasty food that is going to feed us for the next week AND it’s mostly organic stuff so my inner HipsterGrannie is satisfied. Even now, there is a pan of roasted roots and a small chicken resting, waiting to be served for dinner. I feel so…like a Good Mother.

And there’s a liquor store with a massive wine selection, and thanks to Brother Scott and his Christmas gift of several bottles of French wines, my horizon expanded. I bought a couple of bottle of fancy French red wine, and am enjoying a glass of 2014 Les Darons Languedoc, which sounds much fancier than it probably is, but is delicious. Even though there is some sort of taboo about red wine and chicken, in the privacy of my own home I will do as I please.

So here it is, my own version of Retail Therapy: a hand massage from someone dressed in black who smells of almonds, several bags of root vegetables and a chunk of cheese (Harlech Somerdale. People, it is incredible. A sharp cheddar with horseradish in it. MM mm MM MM mm), and a $15 bottle of French Wine. Life is Good.

About rootietoot

I do what I can.
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